caught in a bad romance
by Adages
Summary: [P4] A series of relationships in snapshots, none of them quite working out. Now: Yukiko/Souji; she can only taste the sweet, subtle flavours of his food and think of her own burnt, soggy mess.
1. part one – a fairytale untold, because

**A/N:** This entire thing is mostly finished, though half it was written years ago. I think I might have started it in response to something on the kink meme, but I've completely lost all my links, so who knows. There are 10 parts total, each with focus on a different pairing.

**Chie/Yukiko**

* * *

It's easy for them, like this. They kiss and touch and smile and laugh, and it's like it doesn't matter. If Yukiko frowns sometimes, her gaze fixed on some unreachable point in the distance, Chie never mentions it. If Chie scowls a little too much at another of Yukiko's many suitors and boyfriend-hopefuls, Yukiko doesn't appear to notice.

It works, until the murders.

Yukiko's smiling more, which makes a heady, directionless resentment coil in Chie's stomach. When she laughs in front of the others, the laugh she's always been too embarrassed to share with anyone except Chie, there's a strange, hopeless feeling in her chest.

The first time, they were eight. They were sitting on the banks of the Samegawa River, hands clasped, and Chie had made an awful joke, something that she can't remember now. Yukiko had laughed, and snorted, and spilled all her ice cream on the ground.

Chie had said, "_Yukiko_," and sighed, and Yukiko had laughed some more.

The next day, Yukiko had come running to Chie in tears, twisting her hair in her hands, and declared that she wanted to run away. Chie had – Chie had...

Yukiko doesn't come to her anymore, wanting to run away. She's happier and more settled, and she doesn't look to the city as though it can solve all her problems, as though it's a far-off goal she'll never see. They're still together, but not in any of the ways that count.

Chie runs into Yukiko heading to the bookstore, and Yukiko gushes about Souji recommending books for qualifications, about finding work and getting settled before trying to break out of her heritage at the Inn. Chie remembers saying, "Wait for me, Yukiko," when she was eight, remembers repeating it and promising, pinkie-swearing –

Yukiko pauses, looking for encouragement, and Chie smiles and nods. "Sure," she says, and her voice sounds perfectly steady. "That sounds great, Yukiko."

Chie remembers swearing on her soul that they'd both run away, together – but only after they were both ready. Yukiko had come to her so many times after that, and Chie had been a broken record, repeating and repeating herself, time and time again. Chie has always been Yukiko's prince, and she's always promised to save her Princess, just – not right then.

When they were fifteen, Yukiko had kissed her, traced the line of her collarbone through her shirt, and smiled. "You'll come with me, right Chie?" she had asked, and Chie had agreed, mindlessly.

"We'll go when it's the right time," Chie had promised, but by then there were no more plans in her mind, no more ideas about being her knight in shining armour. Yukiko would stay, for Chie. She always did.

This time, Yukiko kisses her and pulls away. "I'll make it by myself, Chie," she says, eyes shining, "I'm not going to wait for some boy to rescue me."

It makes Chie turn her head away. "That'll be great, Yukiko," she manages. She tries not to think that she's always been the one holding Yukiko back, but she doesn't delude herself.

Chie swallows, and looks back up. "Just – wait for me?" It's a whisper, and Chie hates the sinking, relentless feeling in her gut when Yukiko smiles, bright as a star.

"Always, Chie," she answers, and Chie hates herself just a little.


	2. part two – the princess who isn't, saves

**Souji/Yukiko**

* * *

It should be easy, but it isn't. They both have to work for it; they both have to make time out of their schedules to see each other outside of class. Yukiko doesn't need Souji's help for studying, so she doesn't ask for it, and he's exactly the same. Souji works at the daycare, and has a dozen other friends; Yukiko has to spend most of her after-school time working at the Inn.

It makes it more difficult than it should be, sometimes, because Yukiko isn't always sure she wants to see him. She bakes a cake and tries just a slice, and it makes her sick for a weekend.

He's willing to give her cooking lessons, but – what kind of princess can't cook? What kind of _wife_ can't cook? Yukiko bites her lip and tries again, and again, and again.

"A woman must know how to cook for her husband," her mother tells her, frowning disapprovingly. "You have cooks for you now, but if the Inn goes down..."

Her father shakes his head. "We shouldn't say such pessimistic things," he chides her mother, and gazes at Yukiko with all the reproach of his years. "You are a fine daughter, Yukiko," he says, "and it is my fondest wish to see you married to a kind man."

A kind man who doesn't mind her terrible cooking, he doesn't say. Yukiko burns a batch of cookies and sighs.

Every so often, Souji makes lunch and shares it with her on the school rooftop. Yukiko should enjoy their time together, because it happens so infrequently, but she can only taste the sweet, subtle flavours of his food and thinks of her own burnt, soggy mess.

She hates him for it, so furiously and suddenly it stuns her. _What sort of girl can't cook_, she wonders, her thoughts blazing, and finds herself laughing like it should be a joke. A girl who's so helpless she has to have a man to do it for her.

The hate – jealousy – resentment – festers inside her, ferocious and unrelenting, burning like the fire that engulfs her attempt at miso soup.

She serves it to him anyway, and can't quite hide the smile of retribution as he covers his mouth with one hand, looking ill. She gives him a fake, hopeful smile, and he eats the whole bowl, then hurriedly excuses himself to the bathroom.

After that, when she cooks, it's not for practice.


End file.
